Preview of Starlight

 

 

 

STARLIGHT, a new standalone novel from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Deborah Bladon.

 

Stars shine brighter when the moon is dim.

 

I’ve always been the moon.

 

That’s what happens when you push your dreams aside to fulfill the wishes of the people you love.

 

It’s what brought me to a New York City subway platform with my guitar and a heart full of love songs written from pain and sung with hope.

 

When Berk Morgan tosses a handful of change into my guitar case, he accidentally throws in a key.

 

It’s the key to someone’s heart.

 

Berk comes looking for it. What he finds is a connection neither of us can deny.

 

He tells me I’m his star. He wants me to shine brighter than I ever have before, but that comes with a sacrifice I’m not sure I can make. 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

Astrid

 

 

“Hey, blondie. I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you give me a private show.”

Blondie?

Men in this city are failing – big time.

I ignore whoever yelled that at me because I’m on the subway platform in midtown Manhattan with my guitar in my hands and its case on the ground.

I’m busking. It’s the same thing I do at least three times a week when the morning commuters rush through here with a cup of coffee in one hand and their phones pressed to their ears.

On a good day, I’ll make someone smile, and I’ll pad my pocket with a few extra dollars. On a bad day, I’ll be subjected to a man in an overpriced suit yelling obscenities at me.

Sometimes I’ll yell back because I know that a jerk like that will do the same thing to another woman trying to share her talent with people who need a little pick-me-up.

I skim my fingers over the strings of my well-loved guitar. I’ve had it for almost seven years. It was a gift on the day I graduated high school.

I had visions of a record deal and a world tour. My parents had a plan that included tuition at a community college back in Ohio. I stuck to their plan until I had a business diploma in my hand. That’s when I boarded a bus with the few possessions I had and came to Manhattan.

I start strumming as another train pulls into the station.

The people on their way out of here are a little more generous than those waiting to board the train.

Maybe that’s because they’re grateful they made it to their destination without losing their temper or their belongings.

I ride the subway enough times each day to know that it’s not going to put anyone in a good mood.

Glancing at the people stepping off onto the platform, I recognize a few familiar faces.

One woman with dark hair and gray eyes strolls past as she drops a dollar in my guitar case.

She’s apologized in the past that she can’t give more, but I’ve always told her what I tell everyone who holds guilt in their eyes at the size of their offering.

“Thank you.”

I don’t busk to make a living. I have another way to earn the money I need to live in this expensive city. I busk because it feeds my soul.

I can sing my songs to people who won’t judge me because they know the root of the lyrics.

They won’t sigh and tell me it’s good, but they hope I get signed to a recording contract.

People who step onto this subway platform see what I want them to see. That’s a woman who lives and breathes her life in song.

“It’s my birthday today.”

I smile at the sound of that voice. Lester, a doorman who works at a building on Madison Avenue, stops in front of me.

“It is?” I smile.

He nods.

I launch into a soft sung version ofHappy Birthday.

Lester sways as I croon his name. I smile as a few people nearby join in as the song nears its end.

Lester claps in delight as I strum the last note on my guitar.

“That’s the best gift I’ve gotten in years, Astrid.” He grabs the brim of the hat on his head to tip it forward. “I’ll never forget this.”

I lean forward to kiss him softly on the cheek. “Happy Birthday, Lester.”

He moves on, disappearing into the crowds of people all racing to get somewhere.

I turn back to my guitar case when I hear the unmistakable sound of coins dropping into it.

I’m met with a gorgeous smile and beautiful blue eyes.

My gaze trails over the man’s face. He’s handsome. The brown hair on his head is messed from the wind whipping outside.

The collar of the black wool coat he’s wearing is peaked up.

“Thank you,” I say. “I appreciate that.”

“Have a good day,” he says in a voice that takes me off guard.

It’s deep and warm. The tone is comforting and kind.

With a nod of his chin, he takes off following Lester and all the other commuters into the streets of Manhattan.

I watch him walk away, wishing I knew his name and wondering if I’ll ever see him again. 

 

Coming soon